


theme in cerulean

by zombiejelly



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Poetry, Writer! Baekhyun, i'm a romanticism stan, sappy lit refs, spaceboy! chanyeol, they're so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-11-12 04:51:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11154609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiejelly/pseuds/zombiejelly
Summary: (or: i tried to write this with regular capitalization but it didn't feel anti-government enough.)





	theme in cerulean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marta/gifts).



**:spring vol.1**

calamity. traffic. too many lights. hushed conversation. _there's just something in my eye,_ baekhyun repeats to himself. salt. weakness. he'll cry when he gets home. _steady_. or to jongdae on the phone. _please_. or in silence. alone. not on a train full of people.

it's his third book rejection this month.  _steady. please._ the first tear rolls towards his cheekbone. hot. intrusive. he can feel the stares already. if he were a bit more self-assured maybe he would allow himself to cry in public. it’d enhance the artistic misery for sure.  
sparks. fire down his jaw. more tears. a hiccup. _pathetic_.

a tissue. clean hands. a perfume this peppery on the subway? “excuse me, do you need this?”

tall. thin. wide-eyed. kind-eyed. a baby pink packet of paper wipes and baekhyun blows his nose, obnoxiously loud.

… so peppery. floral, too- an underlying sweetness. concealed. perhaps it's supposed to be a hint. (materialistic thought of the day: you don’t pick the perfume, the perfume picks you.) “uh. thank you.” baekhyun’s voice has this grit to it. the stranger smiles. taupe coat. dark blue scarf. in spring? “isn't it a bit too warm for that?”

“i get cold easily. poor circulation,” he says simply. deep voice. dark voice. smooth voice. it's both comforting and intimidating at the same time. baekhyun sees his own reflection in his glasses. gold-rimmed and puffy-eyed. he feels observed but he doesn't mind. he won't pretend he's got a lot of dignity left. “besides, it's not that warm.”

it's the last stop. baekhyun breathes in. his mouth outruns his thought process. “do you have fifteen minutes to spare? i just-”

wide-eyed. kind-eyed. “i have nowhere to be.” chocolate curls. big ears. baekhyun could ignore his own misery for an hour or two.

-

“let me guess. german romanticism enthusiast? likes long walks on the beach, favorite food is pasta, watches cute animal videos all the way through?”

tall. thin. unusual. baekhyun usually trusts first impressions. brown oxfords and strawberry suspenders. (it's the twenty-first century ..? but it works.) cafe by the ocean. seagulls. mr. “park chanyeol, pleasure to meet you,” singing along to bowie playing through the speakers.

baekhyun laughs. “cracking under all that weltschmerz as we speak.” cloudy skies. cloudy vision, baekhyun recalls- “i'm a writer. i think.” one of chanyeol’s eyebrows goes up. “my book got rejected. again. hence the crying. i’m kind of a pansy.”

_(on the radio: there's no sign of life. it's just the power to charm. i’m lying in the rain-)_

chanyeol doesn't press it. knowing. observant? terrifying. baekhyun is thankful regardless. the verbal confession of his failures just make them more real. “my turn.” nebula eyes. the light of the universe shines through the skin around them. (what kind of snotty-ass _shit_ -) “dog person, smoker, closeted star wars fan. has a thing for scented candles? oh- and definitely a cook.”

  
chanyeol laughs. it's more of puff through the nose, actually. it still manages to reverberate somehow. heavy gaze. baekhyun feels weird finding meaning in all this. “ultra closeted. a george lucas fan amongst film noir fanatics? they'd crucify me if they knew.”

_(on the radio: never gonna fall for; modern love walks beside me. modern love walks on by-)_

they've got the window table. champagne curtains. glow? the sun feels like more than just one single star in the universe today. (silver sparks on a violet sea surface. slightly surreal. breezy. the foam on top of each wave resembles the sugar baekhyun is pouring into his cup.)

“say, byun.” determined sip from a steaming teacup. mint green. midnight eyes. nebula eyes. still focused. baekhyun makes a note not to underestimate a tea drinker’s tolerance to heat ever again. “would you let me get to know you?”

_(on the radio: god and man don't believe  
in modern love.)_

a smile. rosy cheeks. salty cheeks. salty beaks of seagulls on the beach outside. chanyeol smiles, too.

**:summer vol.1**

heavy eyes. heavy heart. a sigh. papers on papers of melancholic rhymes. if he is werther then _he_ is charlotte, and he would do everything and nothing in order to stop feeling.

feeling what? gentle breeze of warm breath on his shoulder? mint. chocolate. cherries. that’s how it smells. it makes baekhyun wonder if it tastes the same, too.  
feeling… smiles like mayblossoms and springtime naivety. dark-corner-of-the-room slam poetry. talking under lilac clouds of virgin dawns… feeling.

“weltschmertz?” baekhyun almost spills his caffè mocha all over his new shamrock pants. chanyeol takes a seat. elegant. in cream suspenders. his dress shirt is peach and baekhyun knows he’ll order green tea. he always does if it’s morning.

“ _the sorrows of young baekhyun_ will be my next big hit.” his words are sarcastic but his voice is weak. chanyeol can tell. “also, hi.”

“green tea, please,” he tells the waitress. smiling. the corners of his mouth draw upwards when baekhyun bites his lip. “hello, yourself.”

“so.” it’s a cough and baekhyun is staring at the empty paper in front of him. “how are you? how’s, uh, yifan?” it’s barely convincing. (he tries.) he values politeness over the satisfaction that comes with yifan’s absence in their conversation.

furrow of a brow. “he’s on a business trip.” lucky for baekhyun that he doesn’t seem to come up that often. (denial slash self-assurance of the day: perhaps chanyeol doesn’t care.) “you look beautiful.”

it’s rosy. heat. baekhyun pretends he hates it. hands over forehead. rubbing eyes, fluttering lashes. (his eyes show his smiles even when his lips don’t.) “i haven’t slept all night.” _you do, too_. “i’m a disaster.”

“you still look beautiful.” _does he look at yifan that way?_ like he looks at seafoam? like he looks at persimmons? like he looks at...

baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek. “i’m thinking of publishing some poetry.”

breeze. a petal caught in a curl above his ear. ten thousand suns in the form of a smile- right there. “what?! that’s amazing, baekhyun! i’m… i can’t wait to read it!”

out of chair. in a hug- there’s the peppery again. less pepper, more sweetness, now… for baekhyun, at least. his life is all spice and small drops of sugar, anyway. “i want my name in at least one place in the book. even if it’s merely a poem called _i hate park chanyeol’s guts_.”

baekhyun laughs. muffled. basking in the denial. lips in the peach. arms around his waist. “i have five of those already.”

“i’m honored to have you write such quality content about me.” shaky breath. unsteady heart. basking in the fragile sugar cubes...

eye-roll. huff of the nose. “shithead...” … _the one every poem is for._

**:summer vol.2**

“ _chanyeol_ -” sandy. dark. moonlight and the shore equal wrong choices. salty. skin three shades more golden… “we shouldn’t be doing this, it’s- what about yifan-”

his eyes have never glowed like this before. “he’s… he’s edgar.”

he’s talking about… the kings of england? “what the _fuck_ , chanyeol?” mind a blizzard. clouds of blurry. clouds of haze. clouds of… serenity? rushing. feeling. all at once.

frown. crow’s feet and closed eyes. long sigh. it sends a gust of cold air over baekhyun’s wet lips. chanyeol kisses him again. watermelon… fructose sunsets... and the candy baekhyun bought at the market earlier. ringing in his ears. dreams, reality… what?

“you’re heathcliff, byun.”

it takes him a second. (minute? century?) a force… chanyeol’s back hits the beach towel. a kiss. lightning across skin. silky curls and humid air. tongue-tied and heart-locked. baekhyun never knew it felt this good to fall. (in love? in a pit? nobody knows.)

out of breath. out of excuses. “hold on… did you just call me an asshole?”

chanyeol laughs. baekhyun doesn’t let it fade away.

_(...in every cloud, in every tree- filling the air at night, and caught by glimpses in every object, by day i am surrounded with your image…)_

-

“so what’s that one, _space boy_?” finger towards the sky. one eye squinting. hot air on his shins.

“that’s _lupus_ right there. the wolf.” warm skin. freckled nose. head on chanyeol’s chest. if he tries, he can feel the earth’s rotation in his shoulders. “and that’s _centaurus_. the bright one next to it.”

stars in the sky. galaxies in chanyeol’s eyes. more honey. more fire. explosions upon contact. “what about yifan?” time is not real. (but it still shouldn’t be wasted.)

sigh. fingers in his hair. nose against his forehead. tobacco breath. “i spent all these months wishing i could love him.”

blink. baekhyun’s tear on chanyeol’s skin. “wishing?”

chanyeol huffs a laugh. it sparks somewhere in baekhyun’s gut. (gunpowder fire. he isn’t used to this.) “i tried.”

butterknife confessions- peeling off his layers. blue like acid hydrangeas. blue like the back of his eyelids. blue…

it melts into pink when chanyeol kisses him again.

**:autumn vol.1**

it’s never enough. dark spots. lazy sunday mornings. the smell of coffee and cigarettes in chanyeol’s hair. purple eyebags and cake made of plums in late september.

baekhyun loves him. like berries. like ferris wheels. baekhyun hates him. (he doesn’t.)

“i’m done being second best.” bitten lips. trembling of hands. they’re watching ‘gilmore girls’ on a tuesday night when he says it. it hurts even more than he thought it would.

chanyeol knows. “i know.”

he leaves with a kiss. popcorn. chocolate cereal. the scent left behind is more like pepper than ever before.

**:autumn vol.2**

cold. silence. void. does it hurt less if you write it down? (no.) waiting. sleepless nights… coffee doesn’t taste the same. moving on with life? a raincoat and introspective walks… legs less tired than thoughts. muddy blue. aching deeper than he wants to admit.

jongdae is desperate. “go home. visit your family. get your mind off things.” perhaps it’s what he needs. home. warmth. oblivion. (he can only hope.)

his mother’s eyes go from lit to devastated in zero point two seconds exactly. he isn’t the most wonderful sight. wide arms. breathing in the scent of his childhood. it won’t last… but it’ll do.

rainy. forests green enough to forget. the oak trees he marked as a child sing a welcome song to him. dirt stains at the bottom of his jeans. scent of the woods. wet soil. damp leaves. it’s two days until it all has chanyeol’s name written on it.

the train ride back home. seven poems in three hours. inspiration. heartbreak. heartburn.

perhaps it isn’t for the worse.

**:winter vol.1**

rainy day. traffic. blurry lights. familiarity. _i can't believe this is happening_. salt. chewed out lips. icy air around his nostrils. _steady_. the train is almost void but the cold still makes it feel stuffy.

he's waited for months. why does it feel so strange? _steady_. _please_. the first tear rolls towards his cheekbone. hot. intrusive. he doesn't know if he's ready to feel this on his own. firecrackers. fire down his spine. more tears. a whimper. _overwhelmed_.

a tissue. no time. gloved hands. a perfume this peppery… (if there's still a heart in baekhyun’s chest, this is the moment it starts beating again.) “you look like you could use this.”

tall. thin. wide-eyed. sad-eyed. baekhyun is shaking now. tongue-tied and lavender around the eyes. the tip of chanyeol’s nose is cherry-colored. he’s dyed his hair black. sniff. blink. thirty seconds later and baekhyun’s voice is still weak. (like his knees. like his heart.)

nebula eyes haven't left his gaze. composure. crackling. “so how have you been? how's- uh, yifan doing?” blink. a bitten lip.

“wouldn't know.” brows up. hiding his surprise is futile. it leaks through his eyelashes. (materialistic thought of the day: missing you like watermelons in december.)

“you… wouldn’t?” baekhyun’s voice is hoarse. butterfly lips turn upwards. leather jacket. no scarf. in winter? “aren’t you cold?”

“i’m used to it.” deep voice. dark voice. pained voice. he doesn’t know if he can handle the transparency. he knows he’s observed and he’d never complain. one second. an eternity. it doesn’t take more than a smile to make baekhyun fall again. (in love? in a pit? definitely both.) “besides, it's not that cold.”

it's the last stop. baekhyun breathes in. sharp. rushed. he doesn’t have time to think. “they’re publishing my book.”

wide-eyed. surprise. smile like sunshine. “that’s amazing! i’m… i’m so glad.” raven curls. big ears. baekhyun doesn’t know what he would do without the misery. “can i… buy you coffee to celebrate?”

ringing in his ears… what? “i can’t- yifan-”

a grip on his ring finger. determined look. pale lips like peaches and cherry trees. it almost makes baekhyun forget about the frost around the windows. (or in his chest?) “i broke up with him. ever since i met you… the thing is…” wordless? not him. never. “you were never second best, byun.”

more tears. blurry glasses. reality… he can feel the earth spinning again. he notices how warm chanyeol’s hand is. “i wasn’t?”

pulling him closer. too entranced to resist. mouth hanging open. the train stops. _shit_.

“come on.”

beaches in winter are strange. cold sand. faint sky. no seagulls. only the wind smells the same. “so did you keep your promise? should i brace myself for _things_ _i hate about park chanyeol_ or did you throw me out completely?”

baekhyun laughs. it hasn’t been that throaty in a while. unwrapping a candy bar. chocolate. peanuts. chanyeol’s eyes are warmer than before. (glimpses of the interstellar…)

“i guess i should thank you.” sticky in the teeth. sweet on the tongue. chanyeol’s pepper mixes with the salt from the sea breeze. “it’s every poem. every poem is about you.”

he looks at him with ease. peculiar expression. wind blowing through his hair. sudden. nose-to-nose. the kiss is deep. short. (baekhyun almost counts the stars it makes him see, anyway.)

“it’s you.” simple. baekhyun smiles. another kiss… peanuts. mint and tobacco. (just as a seagull flies by.)

  
_(...i have so much in me, and the feeling for you absorbs it all; i have so much, and without you it all comes to nothing.)_

**Author's Note:**

> quotes and refs taken from wuthering heights and the sorrows of young werther. don't judge. freedom for romanticism stans 2k17


End file.
